


Please Don't Take Him

by brightlikeloulou



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Jesus survives the stab wound, Love Confessions, M/M, spoilers for 9x8 I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlikeloulou/pseuds/brightlikeloulou
Summary: All Daryl could think, was please don't take him.





	Please Don't Take Him

**Author's Note:**

> A fix-it fic for episode 9x8. I love our boy Jesus, and he didn't deserve that ending.
> 
> (Also, I have only seen episodes 1 and 2 of season 9, along with Jesus' death scene and a few other scenes, so I apologize for any little inaccuracies that may come up)

Paul was a fighter. He was a good fighter. He knew how to land every hit and kick with accuracy and force, he knew how to duck and dodge whatever was thrown back at him. He knew how to survive.

Daryl had always admired it, the way the man's body moved like it knew what to do before Paul even did. It was like a well-practiced dance.

That was why Daryl and the others didn't hesitate to leave the rest of the walkers to Paul, because the man had always been the most capable fighter around, and a group of walkers was like walking in a field of daisies for The Hilltop's leader.

Daryl watched from behind the gate as he, Aaron, Michonne and Eugene waited for him to finish up.

Daryl took it in, Paul's movements, the sound of his sword making contact with the walker's sculls. Paul's grunts of effort as he launched himself off the ground.

He had stopped for a moment, and it gave Daryl the chance to look at his face as he approached the last walker that stood a little ways off. Through the fog, Daryl could make out the man's baby hairs were stuck to his face with sweat. What caught Daryl's eye the most, was the hint of a smile on his face.

Daryl wasn't stupid, he knew that the smile wasn't because Jesus enjoyed killing the former people, but because he was finally doing _something_. He had been cooped up at The Hilltop as their new leader since Maggie had left, and Daryl knew he hated every moment of it. Paul's main skills sat in fighting and scavenging, keeping him in an office, was a waste and everyone knew it. Fighting was what Paul was meant to do, and if not that, something more active, something that didn't involve him feeling trapped and useless, something that was _him_.

They all watched as Paul approached the last walker, and he swung, but the sword didn't connect. There was something so deeply wrong about that because Daryl knew that Paul didn't miss, and everyone else knew that walkers didn't move like _that_.

It happened in a matter of seconds, the 'walker' getting behind Paul, thrusting its knife through the man's flesh.

Aaron yelled as Paul was pushed to the ground, and Daryl was the first one to launch into action. With fear and bile swirling in his stomach, Daryl slipped through the gate, raised his crossbow and fired the bolt through the 'Walker's' skull.

He dropped to his knees by Paul's side as Eugene immediately began to inspect the walker, Magna and Yumiko stood guard somewhere off.

The lump formed in Daryl's throat as he looked down at Paul. Brave, beautiful, wonderful, sweet Paul. The man's eyes were closed, and his face seemed purely peaceful, Daryl found it sickening, unlike the times he had seen Paul sleeping. Because though it looked the same, Paul wasn't sleeping, he was dead or dying.

Daryl's hands shook as he reached for Paul's neck, somewhere in the back of his head he could hear that Michonne is asking "What the fuck happened?", but it's fuzzy, and though he knew he should have been concerned about how it had happened, all that he was thinking was that it had, that Paul got hurt.

His pressed his fingers against Paul's neck.

_Please, please, please. Please don't be gone, you don't deserve to be gone. Please stay, please stay with me._

It took a few seconds, but he felt it, the slow, weak drum of a pulse against the tips of his fingers.

He felt like he could breathe a little easier, but he still wanted to scream and cry until there was nothing left in him.

"He's alive! Give me something to put pressure on it!" He almost screamed, looking back desperately at his family, and scrambling to grab the shirt that Aaron handed to him.

Daryl bound the shirt as tightly around Paul as he could, hoping it would be enough until they got him back to The Hilltop.

Daryl needed to get him home.

He checked the shirt once more, and then he very carefully, slipped one arm under Paul's upper back, and the other under his knees. He got to his feet, Paul slumping against his chest and Daryl grunted because Paul was all muscle and he was heavy as fuck.

"We need to leave before he goes," Daryl choked out, eyes stinging and his gut swirling.

He looked over at Michonne and Eugene, found the two of them squatted down and looking up at him. Eugene holding the skinned face of a walker in his hand. Daryl looked down and found that the 'walker' that attacked Paul was a man.

He didn't have time to think about it. He had to get Paul home, get him safe and warm and better.

"Let's go!" He repeated, voice loud and full of anger at his family because right than saving Paul was more fucking important than anything else.

He spun on his heels and began to walk as fast as he could, the effort of carrying Paul was starting to make his arms burn, but he didn't care. He'd carry him forever if it meant he'd live.

_Please don't take him. Please. Please let him stay._

* * *

Daryl sat by Paul's bed, yellow rays of light cast over the unconscious man's face.

It had been five hours since Paul was stabbed, and two since he had come out of surgery.

Siddiq and Enid had done as much for Paul as they could, now it was up to the leader to fight for himself.

Daryl wished he didn't have to, that Paul was fine, that he was the one in the hospital bed instead of him if that was what it took. Paul didn't deserve it, Paul didn't deserve to be the one that got hurt.

Daryl and Paul were alone, Enid had gone to get some sleep, and Siddiq had left to go and get something to eat. Daryl knew that the Doctor also figured that Daryl wanted some time alone with Paul.

As soon as Siddiq was out the door, he collapsed down beside Paul and broke into sobs. Sobs that shook his whole body and hurt his throat, snot dripped from his nose down his lips.

He cried like that for a long time, silently begging that Paul would be okay because Daryl needed him. He needed their late night talks, their smoke breaks, their hunting trips, he needed Paul because Paul made him happy and made him feel like an actual human.

Daryl finally calmed himself down after what could have been half an hour, and he lifted his head from his blood-stained hands. He could've cried again at the sight of Paul's blood on his skin, but there was a tiny sound from Paul, something between a moan and a gasp.

Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and he scooted his chair closer to Paul's head. He placed his hand on the man's too pale face, felt the coarseness of his beard against his palm. After a moment, Daryl moved his hands, and as carefully as he could, untied Paul's hair from his bun. The bun looked almost painfully tight so it would stay up, and Daryl figured that Paul needed to be as comfortable as possible when he woke up.

Daryl smoothed the hair down Paul's bare shoulders and chest. The chestnut strands had gotten so much longer since the first time they had met at that gas station almost seven years ago now, the strands fell a few inches below his nipples.

Paul's hair felt silky between Daryl's fingers, and Daryl wished that he could do this every moment of every day.

He continued for several moments before Paul moaned again, and Daryl's eyes snapped down to Paul's face. He watched as Paul's eyelids twitched, and his eyebrows creased just the tiniest bit. Daryl moved his hands, cupped Paul's cheek with one and held his shoulder with the other.

"You gonna wake up?" He whispered, disturbing the silence of the medical trailer. He waited a few moments without nothing happening, so he took to brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. "Paul, come on, you gotta wake up, you can't fucking go," He said, a crack in his voice.

Like Paul had heard him, Daryl watched as the man below him blinked open his heavy eyes. Daryl had never been so relieved to see their gorgeous blue-green colour.

"Daryl," Paul moaned quietly, and then he shifted, and that ripped a noise that was something between a moan and cry of pain from his lips.

Daryl's eyes widened, and he decided that he never ever wanted to hear Paul make a noise like that again. He quickly stood up from his chair, keeping his hand on Paul's shoulder. "Hold on, don't move, I'll get Siddiq," Daryl instructed him, and he rushed to the door of the med trailer. He ripped the heavy door open and stepped out onto the stairs, looking around frantically. He spotted him standing over by the front gates, seeming to be chatting to Eduardo. "Siddiq! He's awake!" He screamed, and once he was sure the man had heard him, he spun on his heels and jogged back to Paul.

Daryl looked down at Paul with furrowed brows, happy to see that the man was still awake. He retook his hand.

"W-what happened?" Jesus asked, his voice weak and Daryl squeezed his hand.

"You got stabbed," Daryl told him, reaching down and pushing some hair back from Paul's face.

Paul frowned at that, and he shifted again, his face immediately contorting in pain, and Daryl reached for both of his arms and helped him sit up. "But… but it was a…" Paul trailed off like he was too tired to try and think about it.

Siddiq hurried into the trailer then and immediately came over to them. "Hey, Jesus, it's good to see you awake. Want to tell me how you're feeling?" The younger man said to him as he carefully pressed two fingers to Paul's neck and watched his wristwatch to calculate Paul's pulse rate.

Paul's eyes followed Daryl as he moved away to give Siddiq room, and he still looked so desperate and confused that Daryl walked around to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

Paul took a deep breath, winced as he did and he leaned into Daryl's hand, reaching over and weakly gripping his other one with his own. "Exhausted, confused, hurts," He answered quietly, his words a little slurred.

Siddiq had now moved onto taking his blood pressure. "Right now, your vitals look good, but you're not out of the woods, I'm not going to lie to you, infection could set in, but we're doing everything we can to stop that," Siddiq told him, reaching for a clipboard he had on a nearby bench and scribbling down some things.

Paul nodded and seemed to take Siddiq's words just fine, while Daryl, could have fucking burst into tears again.

"Alright," Paul said in reply, sounding calm, but Daryl could feel the man's palm sweating along with his own, and he could see the small signs of fear on Paul's face.

"You can lay back down now, you need to get some rest," Siddiq said, looking over and offering him a small smile.

Jesus nodded and shifted, ready to lay back down, but he groaned and bit his lip in pain. "Any painkillers?" He grunted.

Daryl brushed his fingers over the back of Paul's neck and wondered just how much the stab wound must be hurting, for Paul, one of the most selfless people left alive, to ask for a painkiller instead of telling them to keep it for someone else.

Siddiq nodded and stepped over to a locked drawer, pulling a set of keys from his belt. "Sure, Daryl get him some water to take it,"

Daryl did as he was told and filled up a glass from the sink, and Paul drank more than half of it before Siddiq handed him two small pills. Paul swallowed them immediately and then allowed Daryl to help him lay back down on the bed. The little expressions and noises of pain he made as he did, made Daryl want to cry for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I need to know what happened," Paul finally said when he had settled on the bed again, eyes looking up at Daryl desperately and his face a symbol of pure exhaustion.

"You need to rest," Siddiq said from the other side of the room, he appeared to be writing more stuff down.

Paul sighed, "I will, after Daryl tells me what happened," He argued, giving Daryl a look that let him know he meant it.

So, Daryl sat down on the chair beside him again, he blushed when Paul immediately reached for his hand. Physical contact between the two of them was normal by that point, they had been close friends for three years, but they seemed to be reaching a new level of intimacy, and it made Daryl's heart surge with happiness because maybe he had been in love with The Hilltop's leader for the past year or so.

Daryl explained what happened, answered all of Paul's questions and kept his patience with the man. Once Paul's eyes started drooping, he finally stopped talking and relaxed onto the mattress, and Daryl was relieved to see it, as much as he loved seeing Paul awake, he needed sleep.

"Thank you for staying with me," Paul murmured, his voice completely laced with sleepiness.

Daryl smiled softly at him and squeezed his hand, "Of course, you'd do it for me," He replied as he tucked the covers higher up Paul's body. "Make sure you wake back up for me, yeah?"

There was a hint of a smile on the younger man's lips. "I'd do a lot more than wake up for you," He whispered, and then seemed to almost instantly drift off to sleep.

Daryl smiled at him, and happy butterflies seemed to almost entirely take over the gut-churning nerves of worry and fear that had been there since Paul was stabbed. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Paul's forehead.

* * *

It was late the next morning when Paul woke up again.

Daryl had slept in the med trailer on the other bed in the room, but he had pushed it to be right beside Paul's.

Siddiq checked all of Paul's vital signs again once he had woken up, and told him he needed to eat and was strictly on bed rest for at least the next week. That had made Paul screw his nose up and roll his eyes, and Daryl had chuckled softly and run his fingers over the moles on Paul's forearm.

Enid had brought over some breakfast for the both of them, kissed Paul's cheek and said she was relieved to see him awake and changed Paul's bandage before firmly instructing him to eat and rest. She left after that, and Paul watched her go with a smile.

"She's come a long way since cutting off Aaron's arm," Paul said with a smirk and pushed a mouthful of eggs and toast into his mouth with a still weak arm and hand.

Daryl nodded and began to dig into his own breakfast, glad to see that Paul seemed to be getting his energy back slightly. His mind was apparently ignoring the part where Siddiq told them that Paul 'wasn't out of the woods and could still get an infection.'

Daryl finished his meal quickly, but Paul ate slowly and only managed to eat half of what was on his plate before he pushed it away.

It was a few minutes later when Paul sighed heavily, and Daryl looked over at him expectantly, scooting closer and reaching for his hand. Paul smiled at him and looked down at where their hands were entwined. "So," He started, and he glanced around the trailer once before he settled on him again. "If I'm completely willing to lose my dignity, could I ask you to hold me up while I take a piss?"

Daryl snorted at the request, then felt a little bad because Paul was obviously a bit embarrassed about the situation. Daryl smiled at him and stood up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Of course, C'mon," He said and begun helping Paul stand up.

It was a slow walk to the bathroom, Paul still weak and exhausted and having to have Daryl hold most of his weight.

Paul had huffed a quiet 'fuck' as they got to the bathroom and he undid his pants. Neither of them said anything while Paul peed, and Daryl knew that Paul would've hated it because Paul was an incredibly independent person doesn't like having to rely on other people.

After the awkward bathroom trip, they both settled onto the bed again, Paul sitting up and Daryl sitting on the edge by his legs and facing him.

"I'm really glad you're okay," Daryl finally huffed after watching Paul take several gulps of his water and take some antibiotics.

Paul smiled at him and placed his glass down on the side table. He held his hand out and encouraged Daryl to move closer, and once he had, he lifted his other arm and wrapped it around Daryl's shoulders and knocked their foreheads together.

Daryl took a deep breath through his mouth, and looked nervously into Paul's blue-green orbs, knowing that they were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

"I'm glad I'm okay too. A few years ago, I wouldn't have really cared if I lived or died, but then I fell in love with you, and that changed," Paul said softly, still a hint of weakness in his voice and bags under his eyes. Daryl watched as the man licked his lips nervously.

Daryl took another deep breath, this one a little shaky. He processed Paul's words in his head, processing that Paul was alive and that he had just said that to him, that it wasn't something he created through his grief and was dreaming of what could have been. "I…" He started, but he couldn't seem to get anything out.

Paul only seemed to smile wider, and Daryl felt gentle fingers card through the baby hairs at the base of his skull. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want, but after I nearly died, and still could if the world decides to fuck me over and I get an infection, I just needed you to know,"

Daryl shook his head at the words, he didn't want to talk about Paul dying, didn't want to entertain the possibility that knife could have been rusty, or too much crap got in the wound before it was cleaned properly when they got back to The Hilltop and that his Paul could still be taken.

"I think I'm in love with you too," He finally mumbled, closing his eyes because it was suddenly too much to look into Paul's.

Paul didn't say anything after that, he just tilted his head and gently pressed his warm lips against Daryl's.

_Please don't take him. Please let him stay._

And Paul never left.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are loved! Xx
> 
> Tumblr - iiloulouii


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